


The Perils of Gay Marriage

by keerawa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Embarrassment, Let's Get Gay Married Commentfic Meme, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-25
Updated: 2011-06-25
Packaged: 2017-10-21 07:49:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/222667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keerawa/pseuds/keerawa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><b>A/N:</b> Un-beta'ed comment-fic written for the <span class="ljuser ljuser-name_cherie_morte"></span><a href="http://cherie-morte.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://cherie-morte.livejournal.com/"><b>cherie_morte</b></a> prompt in the <a href="http://bree-black.livejournal.com/84411.html">Let's Get Gay Married</a> meme.</p>
    </blockquote>





	The Perils of Gay Marriage

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** Un-beta'ed comment-fic written for the [](http://cherie-morte.livejournal.com/profile)[**cherie_morte**](http://cherie-morte.livejournal.com/) prompt in the [Let's Get Gay Married](http://bree-black.livejournal.com/84411.html) meme.

Dean blew into the motel room feeling a little warm from a night of tequila shots with … whatshername. The red-haired chick with the freckles and the dirty-mouth. And it’s not like Dean had never talked his way into a girl’s panties before, but, sheesh, he’d never even _heard_ of some of the shit that girl was into. He’d got out of there before he ended up tied to a St. Andrews cross and branded, with some kind of creepy tail butt-plug up his ass.

The room was dark except for the flickering light of Sam’s laptop. Sam was sitting on his bed, staring intently at the screen. Awwwwwkward.

“Uh, hey, Sammy. Just let me drain the lizard real quick, then I’ll give you some privacy.”

“Huh?” Sam asked glancing up and then back down at the screen. “No, stick around, I’m just watching the live feed.”

“Oh. Okay.” Dean shrugged out of his coat, placed his .45 on the bed stand and his Bowie Knife under the pillow, then went into the bathroom to take a shower. When he came out, towel-drying his hair, Sam was still watching. “Live feed of what?”

“The voting for the Gay Marriage debate in the New York Senate. It’s –” Sam held up a finger. “Hold on. I think …” Sam squinted at the screen and leaned further forwards.

Dean got an odd, swooping sensation in his stomach. It wasn’t the tequila.

“Yes!” Sam yelled, beaming triumphantly. “They pulled it off! We should go celebrate! Did you know that there’s no residency requirement for a marriage license in New York state? Man, I bet the Justices of the Peace will be booked up solid. Gonna be hard to get an appointment.”

“Look, Sam,” Dean cleared his throat. Sam had dragged him to New Jersey, supposedly on the trail of some cursed jewelry that had turned up in an estate sale. “That’s, uh, that’s awesome, right? But, uh …” he trailed off. “I mean, we’ve always been close. And, yeah, there’s that whole soul-mate thing, which is … yeah.”

Sam was staring up at him with a scrunched-up face.

Dean soldiered on. “And I don’t want you to feel, umm, rejected or anything, but we’re, you know, _brothers_! So even with gay marriage being legal, it’s not like we can, ummm….”

Sam was biting his lower lip. He stood up and gently sat Dean down on the bed. “Dean,” he asked in what would have been a kind voice if wasn’t shaking with laughter. “Did you think I was asking you to marry me?”

“Ummm ….” Dean felt a sudden, violent need to be wearing more than a towel. One of those Hazmat suits would work. “Maybe?”

“Yeah, no.” Sam assured him. “It’s for my friends, Cindy and Alison? You know, the ones who asked us to check out the cursed jewelry for them?”

“Oh,” Dean said, pondering. “Oh! Wait, they’re lesbians? You said they were, like, room-mates.”

“I didn’t want you drooling on them,” Sam said absently, pulling up something on his laptop. “Here,” he said, plunking the laptop down on Dean’s bed. “I’m gonna take a shower. Watch some football. You’ll feel better.”

“’Kay,” Dean agreed weakly. The Giants were playing the Cowboys. Nice. “Hey! Wait a minute!” Dean protested. “It’s summer-time, Sam! There’s no football in the middle of summer!”

“-saved it for emergencies,” Sam replied over the rush of the water from the shower.

Dean hit the pause button. He got dressed, pulled a six-pack out of the cooler in the Impala, and waited for Sam to finish his beauty regime so they could watch the game together.


End file.
